Life, Love, & LipglossThe Beauty-ful Misadventures of *vanity kane*
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
The bigwigs at Sephora must have gotten all the subliminal requests I've been making because they just started their Beauty Insider program, which allows frequent consumers (like yours truly) to be eligible for exclusive samples, purchase limited-edition products, and enjoy other awesome goodies. It's like a bonus card for beauty products! At the moment the program is only available online and in select markets, but come June it will be available nationwide to beauty junkies and novices alike. The best part is that it's free to join, so there's no excuse for you not to sign up right now. Seriously, hop to it!
Now if this isn't the perfect necklace for the girl they call *Vanity Kane*, I don't know what is (hint hint, lol)!
Some folks say that hindsight is 20/20, but I just think that what you don't pay attention at first can come back to bite you on the ass later. Trust me, I know. Remember a couple posts ago I was dealing with the whole "which boy do I like better" issue (refer to this link for a refresher)? Well thanks to a series of events that have occurred and that I should have accepted in the first place, I know that Poisonous is no longer a contender. He's beginning to get possessive and he's been talking to be any old kind of way. For example he occasionally likes to call me the "pretty girl with the crooked teeth", which is just as shitty as when Fraudulent used to call me the "pretty fat girl" back in the day. He constantly chastises my naivete and talks down to me like as if I was two as opposed to twenty two. He also tells me I'm too emotional and I cry too much. The icing on the cake was when I admitted to him that I'd been in therapy since January, to which he responded, "Oh...so you're crazy". So much for respecting a delicate subject. I suppose I can only expect but so much sensitivity from a guy who admits to taking joy out of screwing with people's minds. I wonder if he's just been playing one big mind game with me, just so he can get what he wants from me (I'm too grown for that "I'll still respect you in the morning" type bullshit). No wonder my intuition told me to turn down his invitation to boo-dom down twice.
I'm sure it sounds odd, but it's like me and my heart are on a game show and I have to pick between two prizes that are sitting behind two separate doors. Behind door number one is an all expenses paid trip to Bora Bora (with luxury accommodations of course), free NARS cosmetics and BLISS skincare for life, a Van Cleef & Arpels asscher cut diamond pendant with matching earrings and ring all set in platinum, a white 2007 Mercedes-Benz CL600 coupe, a five bedroom/five bathroom brick colonial with more closest space than I can shake a stick at, La Perla bras in a 38E (don't hate), calorie free cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery, a new pair of Christian Louboutin pumps every week for a year, $1 Billion untaxed, and some bomb ass head on a nightly basis. Fabulous right? Sadly what lies behind door number two isn't nearly as fabulous. Behind door number two is the consolation prize - a rusty, broken toaster. Poisonous, sadly, is that consolation prize.
The Editor asked me why I've still been dealing with this cat if he's treating me so crazy. The truth is that for years I've been so used to settling for the consolation prize that my mind is still registering the fact that I really do deserve better. Thankfully I'm able to see all the things wrong with Poisonous before it really got out of hand, mainly because according to my therapist I see things as wholes and not parts - I look at what the big picture is or could be instead of all the smaller events that lead up to it. The main point is that I don't have to deal with the mistreatment anymore, I'm worth more than just a broken down toaster. I'm finally ready for what's behind door number one...
I'm sure it sounds odd, but it's like me and my heart are on a game show and I have to pick between two prizes that are sitting behind two separate doors. Behind door number one is an all expenses paid trip to Bora Bora (with luxury accommodations of course), free NARS cosmetics and BLISS skincare for life, a Van Cleef & Arpels asscher cut diamond pendant with matching earrings and ring all set in platinum, a white 2007 Mercedes-Benz CL600 coupe, a five bedroom/five bathroom brick colonial with more closest space than I can shake a stick at, La Perla bras in a 38E (don't hate), calorie free cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery, a new pair of Christian Louboutin pumps every week for a year, $1 Billion untaxed, and some bomb ass head on a nightly basis. Fabulous right? Sadly what lies behind door number two isn't nearly as fabulous. Behind door number two is the consolation prize - a rusty, broken toaster. Poisonous, sadly, is that consolation prize.
The Editor asked me why I've still been dealing with this cat if he's treating me so crazy. The truth is that for years I've been so used to settling for the consolation prize that my mind is still registering the fact that I really do deserve better. Thankfully I'm able to see all the things wrong with Poisonous before it really got out of hand, mainly because according to my therapist I see things as wholes and not parts - I look at what the big picture is or could be instead of all the smaller events that lead up to it. The main point is that I don't have to deal with the mistreatment anymore, I'm worth more than just a broken down toaster. I'm finally ready for what's behind door number one...
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
There's much to be said about a girl who frolics down Madison Avenue shamelessly grinning ear-to-ear just thinking about how she loves the sound of his laugh. There's even more to be said when that girl is me :-)
I swear there must be something floating around in this lead-infested D.C. urrea water, because it seems like almost every man I've had love me then leave me during my Howard experience is coming out the woodwork. I know they say that you don't know what you've got until it's gone, but just because you decided that I was the "perfect definition of a woman" and that you now realize the error of your ways does NOT mean that I am just going to come running back to you as if I'm been sitting here waiting for your sorry ass to man up. The Editor says that I should take it all as a compliment, but surprisingly my anger overtakes my narcissism for once.
Since about November or so Fraudulent has been stalking me via MySpace and Facebook begging me to forgive him for treating me so badly right after I gave him my virginity. Two years ago I might have forgiven him as if the whole ordeal was my fault, but after thinking long and hard about our situation there is no reason for me to have to bend over backwards because this BOY had the nerve to call me fat, holla at other women right in front of me, keep me hidden away for hours on end in his sorry ass unfurnished studio apartment, get upset with me because I was far more ambitious than he was, and blame me for getting raped by the Alpha whose name shall not be spoken on that faithful Easter morning. Now the man who broke me down and stole my self worth wants ME to forgive him? I know God loves all his children, but I think God will completely understand when I say I wish Fraudulent would walk into oncoming traffic then fall on something sharp and rusty - sans tetanus shot. I'm thankful that now I can hold my head up high and admit that I was too good for him. Ole cock-eyed mutha fucka...
Then we have Broken Glass. Last week or so this cat decides to text me out of the "blue" talking about some, "I just thought about you, there's no real rhyme or reason". Lest we forget that just over a year ago he get me pissy drunk and fucked me while I was unconscious. Oops, did I say that out loud? Maybe that's just how he upholds the ideals of "brotherhood, scholarship, and service" (I'm sure Brothers Taylor, Morse, and Brown would be sooo proud). I look back and think about how naive I was to want him to want me as more than just his plaything, but I decided to stop beating myself up about it and took the situation as just another lesson learned. I used to get weak in the knees when he told me how captivated he was by my beauty, now the mere thought of him touching me makes me sick to my stomach. The girls feel as though his conscience has been eating at him since everything went down and that's why he's been trying so hard to speak to them and try to get back into my good graces. At any rate, after I pointed out that we really haven't spoken since the incident occured he proceeded to ignore me, just like the little boy that he is.
Lastly there's Taurean, the man who I loved since the age of 14 and taught me everything I know both sexually and otherwise. The man who abused the trust and broke the heart of the little girl who grew up without her dad and just wanted to be loved. He took advantage of both my vulnerability and my youth knowing good and well that if his homely ass wifey find out about the hot piece of college ass he was sneaking off to get in the middle of the night, it'd be curtains for him. I'm sure it hurt his middle-aged ego when me and Song Cry first get together, because that meant my new found love would leave me disinterested in creeping off to be his mistress. What really pissed me off was the fact that after I told him that I started going to therapy, he said that he could tell that something mental must have been wrong with me because of the way I spoke to him over AIM. In his mind I was the messed up one because I chose to end the relationship we once had. The way some men think is oh so comical to me. He's even still asking me for my new cell phone number, which he will never get because I am no longer that dumb little girl he fell in lust with. I am no longer that dumb little girl who had delusions breaking up his happy home. I am no longer that dumb little girl who was helplessly in love with him.
Growing up has provided me with the strength and wisdom to be OK with moving forward and looking beyond the facade presented to me. I now know that all that glitters really isn't gold. Shit, it's not even a gold-plated trinket found on Jamaica Avenue. So to all the boys who've come running back to me with their tails between their legs after doing me so dirty - kiss my ass. I'll leave you with some parting words that Ciara has left resonating within me (The Evolution is still the truth y'all!):
And one day soon you'll see
You'll reach out for me
Boy you had a keeper
Didn't know how to treat her
Should have dug a little deeper
And now you're gonna miss my love...
Since about November or so Fraudulent has been stalking me via MySpace and Facebook begging me to forgive him for treating me so badly right after I gave him my virginity. Two years ago I might have forgiven him as if the whole ordeal was my fault, but after thinking long and hard about our situation there is no reason for me to have to bend over backwards because this BOY had the nerve to call me fat, holla at other women right in front of me, keep me hidden away for hours on end in his sorry ass unfurnished studio apartment, get upset with me because I was far more ambitious than he was, and blame me for getting raped by the Alpha whose name shall not be spoken on that faithful Easter morning. Now the man who broke me down and stole my self worth wants ME to forgive him? I know God loves all his children, but I think God will completely understand when I say I wish Fraudulent would walk into oncoming traffic then fall on something sharp and rusty - sans tetanus shot. I'm thankful that now I can hold my head up high and admit that I was too good for him. Ole cock-eyed mutha fucka...
Then we have Broken Glass. Last week or so this cat decides to text me out of the "blue" talking about some, "I just thought about you, there's no real rhyme or reason". Lest we forget that just over a year ago he get me pissy drunk and fucked me while I was unconscious. Oops, did I say that out loud? Maybe that's just how he upholds the ideals of "brotherhood, scholarship, and service" (I'm sure Brothers Taylor, Morse, and Brown would be sooo proud). I look back and think about how naive I was to want him to want me as more than just his plaything, but I decided to stop beating myself up about it and took the situation as just another lesson learned. I used to get weak in the knees when he told me how captivated he was by my beauty, now the mere thought of him touching me makes me sick to my stomach. The girls feel as though his conscience has been eating at him since everything went down and that's why he's been trying so hard to speak to them and try to get back into my good graces. At any rate, after I pointed out that we really haven't spoken since the incident occured he proceeded to ignore me, just like the little boy that he is.
Lastly there's Taurean, the man who I loved since the age of 14 and taught me everything I know both sexually and otherwise. The man who abused the trust and broke the heart of the little girl who grew up without her dad and just wanted to be loved. He took advantage of both my vulnerability and my youth knowing good and well that if his homely ass wifey find out about the hot piece of college ass he was sneaking off to get in the middle of the night, it'd be curtains for him. I'm sure it hurt his middle-aged ego when me and Song Cry first get together, because that meant my new found love would leave me disinterested in creeping off to be his mistress. What really pissed me off was the fact that after I told him that I started going to therapy, he said that he could tell that something mental must have been wrong with me because of the way I spoke to him over AIM. In his mind I was the messed up one because I chose to end the relationship we once had. The way some men think is oh so comical to me. He's even still asking me for my new cell phone number, which he will never get because I am no longer that dumb little girl he fell in lust with. I am no longer that dumb little girl who had delusions breaking up his happy home. I am no longer that dumb little girl who was helplessly in love with him.
Growing up has provided me with the strength and wisdom to be OK with moving forward and looking beyond the facade presented to me. I now know that all that glitters really isn't gold. Shit, it's not even a gold-plated trinket found on Jamaica Avenue. So to all the boys who've come running back to me with their tails between their legs after doing me so dirty - kiss my ass. I'll leave you with some parting words that Ciara has left resonating within me (The Evolution is still the truth y'all!):
And one day soon you'll see
You'll reach out for me
Boy you had a keeper
Didn't know how to treat her
Should have dug a little deeper
And now you're gonna miss my love...
Sunday, May 13, 2007
I know it's been a hot minute since I've updated (I promise I'll get better), but I was just perusing the Carol's Daughter website when I came across the company's new line of high-shine lip glosses fittingly named "Candy Paint". Natural ingredients like grapeseed oil and shea butter paired with a (dare I say it) tasty color selection serves as the perfect combination of style and substance. The pin-up girl in me is tempted to go out and purchase "Diva", the perfect red to compliment the summer freak 'em dress I've had my eye on. For those of you who are less adventurous, feel free to choose from one of the 11 other sweet color options available. As with all Carol's Daughter products, these gorgeous lips treats do not contain mineral oil, petroleum, artificial colors, or parabens. $13.50, Carol's Daughter.